


Friendship and Killer Whales

by sister_wolf



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-04
Updated: 2001-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's friendship like among villains?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship and Killer Whales

Mystique stomped into the television room of Magneto's fortress, frowning. Mort, who'd been peacefully watching the Discovery Channel (a special on orcas—his favorite animal), eyed her warily. Mystique in a bad mood was something to fear.

Mystique paced back and forth, obviously stewing over something. Mort considered telling her she was blocking his view of the telly, but decided she'd probably break his nose for it. Instead, he waited quietly for the outburst. He'd seen her this way before. She'd yell and break things, then she'd start crying on his shoulder, tell him all her problems, then as soon as she felt better, it'd be back to normal, with Mystique treating him like some sort of lesser lifeform.

Oh well, he shrugged philosophically. He was used to it.

"That bastard!" Mystique yelled.

"Wot's wrong, Mystique?" Mort muted the sound of the announcer discussing orca hunting tactics and patted the sofa cushion next to him. "Tell me all about it."

She sneered at him and continued pacing around the room, occasionally picking up small objects and weighing them in her hands absently.

"I hate men," she muttered, tossing a small vase from hand to hand.

"Wot 'appened?" Mort asked, watching an orca beach itself in order to nab a seal. He kept half an eye on her, in case there was any need to duck.

Suddenly, Mystique whirled around and flung the vase against a wall. It exploded in a shower of clay fragments. "He called me a freak!"

She burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

"C'mere, sweet'eart, c'mere," Mort murmured soothingly. She plopped down on the sofa next to him, sobbing. He rubbed his hand over her back. Funny, you'd think that the scales would be hard, scratchy, but instead they were soft and yielding under his hand. Mystique leaned her head against his shoulder.

Between sobs, she told him what had happened. "I was bored, so I changed into the form of that bitch, Jean Grey, and I went out… to a bar… in Georgetown… and I met this guy… I really liked him!" she wailed.

"There, there," Mort soothed, keeping an eye on the telly. Ooh, a pack of orcas herding a school of fish by confusing them with sonar pings. Now that's something you don't see every day.

"So we went back to his apartment… and we started having sex… and he was really good, and I was getting really into it…"

With great difficulty, Mort tried not to picture any of this in his mind. Mystique would skin him alive if she ever got the idea that he found her sexy. He figured the only reason she even talked to him was that she thought of him as some kind of sexless amphibian. Not that he really ever wanted to have sex with her, it would be about as dangerous as bedding a pit viper, but hey, he was male, he couldn't help but notice her.

"… and I guess I lost control of the form when I orgasmed… and suddenly he was staring at me and screaming that I was a freak…" She sobbed into Mort's shoulder, her tears soaking his shirt.

"That bastard," Mort murmured, stroking her hair.

"I really liked him, too…" Mystique sniffled. "So I crushed his windpipe and let him suffocate on his living room floor… Men are such bastards!"

"I know, sweet'eart, I know." He grabbed a tissue and handed it to her. She wiped the tears away from her glowing yellow eyes.

"You think I'm sexy, don't you?"

Mort froze and thought fast. He could tell her the truth, and she'd kill him, or he could lie… and she'd kill him. Either way, he was screwed. He might as well tell the truth. "Yeah, Mystique, I think you're sexy."

"You're not just saying that, are you?"

"Trust me, sweet'eart, if it wasn't for my fear of emasculation, I'd be hitting on you all the time."

Mystique smiled, her eyes watery. "Thanks, Toad. That's sweet." She eased herself away from his shoulder, putting distance between them. "So what are you watching?"

"Special on orcas." Mort grabbed the remote and turned the sound back on.

"Oh, cool."

They settled back comfortably on the sofa, watching the television in companionable silence, a small island of light in Magneto's dark, dreary fortress.


End file.
